


A Stranger Feeling Than Most

by bgd



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgd/pseuds/bgd
Summary: Sherlock has vowed not to get attached. After what happened... he won't let himself get torn apart like that again. But when he runs away from boarding school and back to his hometown, he doesn't expect to find a boy whose smile sends butterflies flying laps around his stomach and makes his heart flutter a thousand times a minute - especially not a boy who he may have the tiniest bit of a chance with.Teenlock.





	

**Author's Note:**

> None of this will make much sense until I upload the next couple of chapters, sorry! 
> 
> Teen!lock, Johnlock
> 
> May contain smut in later chapters.

I

The sound of his own heartbeat, the drum of it against his ribcage as it fought to tear out of his chest. He could hear the wind whistling past him as he ran, the icy bite of it bringing the sharp sting of tears to his eyes. The thoughts echoing around the thick fog that filled his head seemed to get louder with every step, but the dense mass of smoke shrouded every syllable until the screaming that had once raced through his veins and laced the air in his lungs was barely more than tendrils of smoke.

 

All the more intoxicating.

 

The only thing left in his head was a billowing cloud of nothing. Around him, the world was too bright and too blurred and too cruel for him to pay any attention to it. All he could focus on was the tick-tick-tick of his watch and the thump-thump-thump of his shoes against the road and the salty taste of blood in his mouth.

II

He was at school.

Here, the hallways were too long and the buildings were lacking in places that he could hide with a book.

He was walking, the sound of his school shoes hitting the stone floor amplified as it echoed off the high ceiling. And then the tap of his own shoes had an accompaniment – quick, loud steps as a group of boys bounded towards him.

He was in class, his book covered in scribbles, nonsensical to anyone but him. Page after page – he thought that maybe if he just kept writing he could tune out what they were saying, stop the words weaving their way into his thoughts.

He was reading outside on the grass and he was sat outside his dorm and he was walking between lessons or he was walking just for the sake of walking or he was standing at the back of the room as the post was handed out or he was sat at his desk or he was in bed and every single time they were there. Like a black cloud – like they were his shadow. They came and went without a trace – nothing that he let anyone else see, anyway.

He was sat at the lunch table, sipping at the glass of water that he was clutching. That was when it happened. The final incident. The black cloud that had been following him around had struck lightning, raining down with sharp, heavy rain until tears were streaming down his face and he was running running running and he didn’t know where but he only knew that he needed to get away. He’d run faster than his legs could carry him, almost relishing the pain of his muscles as he tore down the road. Of course he could remember the route to take. He’d spend nights poring over it, memorising every different way that he could get away from the cursed place.

III

By the time the sun was creeping under the horizon, he’d slowed to a walk. His feet were aching and his muscles were sore, but it paled in comparison to the stabbing pain in his chest that wasn’t showing any signs of easing. There were no tears left to fall, no curses that he hadn’t muttered under his breath as he stumbled through the countryside.

It was long after dark when he saw a familiar light in the distance. Everything was bathed in the cool moonlight, but this light was more like fire. It reignited the fire that had been burning at the back of his throat all day. The road was well trodden, and his feet carried him down it as his brain shut down.

Whenever he usually returned home, he was shocked by how ordinary the house seemed compared to his memories of it. Nothing was ever as homey as he remembered it being – the flowers were always wilting, and the gentle glow of the porch light always seemed less warm and more yellow. The crunch of the gravel was always less satisfying than he remembered it to be, and the moonlight never seemed to gleam against the windowpanes in the fairytale way that he dreamed of whenever he dreamed of home.

This time, however, none of these things mattered. He was home. That was enough. He barely noticed that there weren’t any flowers – let alone wilting ones – or that the porch light was only on because it was on a motion sensor now. He didn’t want to notice these things.

Instead he wanted to slip unnoticed through the front door, opening it just so wide that the hinges wouldn’t creak and taking care to click it shut quietly. He knew the floorboards to avoid by memory, and which steps creaked just a little bit too loudly. He wasn’t surprised to find his room un-dusted, everything in the exact same spot as he left it.

He tried not to notice the light that switched on just as he pulled the covers up to his chin, or the tap of keys as somebody typed into a phone. He couldn’t unnoticed these things, of course, but the grip of sleep was enough to empty his mind of them as his eyes finally shut to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's just a stream of consciousness thing at the moment - the next few chapters will have a lot more action/dialogue, I promise!


End file.
